Point of Betrayal (26 page)

“Most bought those to catch their cheating husbands,” she laughed. “They weren’t half as worried about who was handling their children as they were about who was
handling
their men.”

“You weren’t?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she repeated and sipped her coffee. “Unlike most couples, Louie and I decided to talk about our sexual relationship before we ran into trouble. After he caught me with my maid of honor, I don’t think we had any other choice. We decided to have an open marriage. Since I needed to be with women, I certainly couldn’t ask him to be completely faithful.”

“So he has other lovers?” she asked, fascinated by Sienna’s lifestyle.

She shrugged. “Perhaps. Maybe not now but in the past. We don’t talk about it. We just expect two things from each other,” she said, wagging two fingers. “First, we take precautions with other partners, and we leave it as sex. There’s no dating, no falling in love.” She gestured at the table. “I’m actually making a huge exception for you, meeting you here for coffee. This is almost like a date.”

At the mention of the word “date,” Molly sat up, startled. “Date? This isn’t a date.”

“It’s beyond my agreement with my husband,” she said adamantly. “We’re not naked and we’re in a public place.”

She leaned forward. “Then why are you here?”

She gazed at her thoughtfully. “Because my husband has nothing to fear from you. There’s no way we’ll fall in love. You’re not a threat. You’re still in love with Ari.”

She frowned. “That’s not true.”

She reached across the table and took her hand. “Isn’t it? I know this Biz person ruined your career and she may be a murderer, but aren’t you worried about Ari? About her being with Biz?”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “You’ve got it all wrong. In fact, you probably won’t like my motivations.”

“Tell me.”

Before she spoke she wrapped all of her anger into the tight little steel ball that sat inside her heart. “I can’t wait for Biz to be arrested, that’s true, but not because I’m worried about Ari. No, it’s quite the opposite. I hope the police break down the door of her hot shit condo while they’re doing it in bed. I hope the cops run into her bedroom with guns blazing just before they climax.” She watched Sienna’s face fall—and it pleased her. “I want Ari to suffer just like I suffered. I want her to know what it’s like to lose the person you love the most in the world.”

“How do you know she loves Biz?”

“Well, she left me.”

“No,” she disagreed, “from what you’ve told me, you left
her.
She was completely vulnerable after being kidnapped and nearly killed, and you caught her in a terrible moment of weakness, one that was probably orchestrated by Biz, I should add, and
you
ran out on her. Is that about right?”

Her face reddened. She’d twisted all the facts.
Or maybe she just untwisted them.

“Still,” she argued, “Ari’s responsible for her actions.”

“That’s true,” she conceded. “We all have to accept responsibility for our actions.” She paused before she said, “I guess I was just lucky enough to find a partner who believed loving me was more important than punishing me.”

“It’s not the same,” she snarled, “and why are we talking about this? My relationship with Ari has nothing to do with catching Biz. She’s committed a felony and she’s going to pay.”

“What about her boss?” she whispered. “Wasn’t she working for someone in the mob?”

She nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been trying to catch him for years.”

“How do you think he’s going to react when he finds out you know she’s a killer?”

“He won’t find out,” she said without much conviction.

“Right,” she said, taking one last gulp of her coffee before she stood up to go. “You’re in over your head, Molly, and the person you love most in the world could get hurt or wind up dead. You think you feel awful now…”

She grabbed her purse and walked away.

* * *

Molly sat outside Ari’s house, the truck’s engine idling, studying the keychain shaped like a real estate sign, the words National Title Company stamped across it. She imagined it was a cheap souvenir Ari had received at some convention.

She glanced at the red front door that led into Ari’s new life. She’d not yet returned Ari’s spare key to Brian, and he hadn’t asked for it. She guessed he was conveniently forgetting since he’d been by the house to work on the plumbing, probably using a key Ari kept hidden for emergencies.

She needed to return Biz’s key before Ari returned from California, but she couldn’t get out of the truck. The day before, she hadn’t given a second thought when she’d hurried into the house and up the stairs on her mission to destroy Biz. The fact that she was technically breaking and entering didn’t cross her mind, but for a reason she couldn’t determine, entering Ari’s house
this
time seemed more dangerous, as if there were more at stake.

Because I want to linger inside. If I can’t be near her, I want to be near her things, and I really want to find that picture.

She killed the engine and hopped out of the cab. She strolled casually to the front door and slipped inside. The tile was dry and Brian had removed his equipment from the foyer. In the kitchen new plasterboard covered the site of the burst pipe. She guessed that the beautiful oak floors could be saved, but they would need to be refinished. Ari would be greatly relieved since it was the original hardwood.

She went into the solarium and gazed into the beautiful backyard, picturing her bending over to plant a flower, her cute little bottom tilting toward the sky. She blinked and took a deep breath. Maybe Sienna was right.

She scanned the room and noticed a small credenza in the corner. She searched through both drawers carefully, finding some old real estate awards, several knickknacks that she must have pulled out of storage and the framed certificate she’d received when she graduated from the police academy.

She headed upstairs and immediately returned Biz’s key to the pigeonhole above Ari’s desk. She opened all the drawers and chuckled at the superior organization. Every pencil, sticky note pack and paperclip was housed in some type of container and sat inside larger containers. She thought of her own desk and the middle drawer that wouldn’t open because so many papers had been crammed inside. Ari wouldn’t approve. She stepped back. There was nothing personal anywhere in the loft. It was her home office and nothing more.

She imagined she would find boxes in the guest room full of the things she hadn’t had time to unpack, as well as the items that just hadn’t found the right spot yet. So she was surprised when she opened the door to an inviting four-poster bed with complementary cherry wood furniture. She shook her head. Already she was ready for company. A few blankets were stacked in the closet, but the dresser was empty. She sat on the edge of the bed and plucked the maroon throw pillow from the pile against the headboard. She pressed it tightly against her chest. Ari had kept it on her living room sofa when she lived in the condo and would tuck it under her head when they lounged in front of the TV.

She contemplated whether Ari would really miss it if she took it, considering it was practically buried underneath two giant shams in a room that was hardly used. She rolled her eyes at her unbelievable thoughts.
I’m resorting to pillow theft.
She centered it on the pile and closed the door behind her.

All that remained was Ari’s bedroom. She already knew there wasn’t anything in one nightstand, so she checked the other one for good measure, finding only a stack of Sudoku books. The closet contained a modest collection of dressy clothes and very few pairs of shoes by most women’s standards. She couldn’t resist gazing at a few of her favorite outfits—the short pink miniskirt, the striped silk dress blouse Ari wore with her gray suit and her personal favorite, the black leather jacket.

A stack of large red IKEA boxes sat in the corner with neatly printed tags on the front. She knew their contents, which had been a discussion point at various times during their relationship. Ari saved all memorabilia, believing every experience deserved to be chronicled. The first box was simply labeled “Cards” and contained every greeting card she’d ever received, but she hadn’t included the ones from Molly. Underneath was a box labeled “Entertainment
,
” followed by“Photos,” then “Letters,” and the most interesting one in her opinion, “Miscellaneous.” Inside were the screwiest of the odds and ends she’d acquired throughout the years, including weird pencils, her pressed corsage from her senior prom and her first baby tooth. But there was nothing from their relationship.

The only place left to look was the dresser. Her hope faded as she realized the unlikelihood of Ari relegating the mementos of their relationship to a dresser drawer. Still, she needed to find that photo and anything else Ari may have kept since she had never put her “Molly Things”in the IKEA boxes.

She pulled open the drawers one after the other, her disappointment growing with the revelation of each drawer’s contents: sweaters, T-shirts, socks and, as titillating as it was, underwear. Six drawers and no mementos and no photo.

She sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head. What was she thinking? Why was she here? Her phone fell from her pocket to the floor. She leaned over to retrieve it and her gaze settled on a long plastic box under the bed. She got down on all fours and pulled it out, expecting to find all of her gift wrapping supplies, probably color-coded by hue. Instead several memories burst forth at once and competed for her attention, each triggered by an object in the box.

She immediately reached for the framed photo, the one she’d been hoping to find. She smiled at the significance of it being on
top
. They had been so happy. Ari had protested when Jane asked for a picture, insisting that her hair was a mess. She’d pulled it up with a clip and several strands had escaped throughout the day as they’d trolled the antique shops and taken a short hike. She looked so fresh and alive. She was the most beautiful in her most natural state.

Molly inhaled to ward off the tears and the urge for a scotch, which suddenly overwhelmed her. She thrust her hand in her pocket and clutched the familiar stone, her lifeline to sanity. She closed her eyes and waited for the moment to pass, willing herself forward as if she were passing through a mountain tunnel. She visualized the exit and saw the continuing highway at the end. Light appeared and she rounded the corner. She opened her eyes and dropped the stone back into her pocket.

“Great,” she whispered, reaching for a scrapbook with a nondescript black leather cover.

A newspaper article was glued to the first page. It was the coverage of her first big case, the murder of a prominent businessman. One of Ari’s best friends had been accused; it was the case that brought them together and ignited their relationship. She flipped the pages and read the headlines of subsequent articles that created a timeline of the case and its eventual closure, which included Ari being shot.

She noticed all of her important cases, the ones worthy of news coverage, were chronicled in the scrapbook. Although her name was never mentioned specifically, Ari was cataloguing her career. Interspersed were several articles about crimes the police suspected were the work of Vince Carnotti, the man most likely to have been behind the end of her career.

A lump formed in her throat as she glanced through the pages devoted to the last murder she’d investigated, the one that ended with a terrible explosion only a dozen yards from where she was. No one had been arrested in the end. No one needed to be.

The rest of the pages were blank like a story with no ending.

She put everything back inside carefully and shoved the box under the bed. She stood, full of resolve, marched into the guest room and yanked the maroon pillow from the bed.

Cars lined the Garritsons’ driveway and Jane brazenly pulled the rental up next to the fountain creating her own makeshift parking space. “I doubt anyone will tow it,” she said.

Music and boisterous laughter rolled through the open front door. “This is quite a party,” Ari murmured as they headed up the walk.

“They’re celebrating,” she replied. “Wouldn’t you? I’m sure they want everyone who is anyone to know Sam is innocent. Steve’s appointment to the task force depends on it.” They had barely stepped across the threshold before a waiter presented a tray of champagne. Jane handed her a flute. “I’ll hand it to Biz. She got the job done.”

Jane raised her glass in salute, and she met her toast silently. Laguna’s A-group milled about the great room in expensive suits, fine jewelry and designer dresses. She spotted Steve and Georgie greeting people near the French doors. Both wore broad smiles as they accepted the congratulations of their friends and admirers. Georgie constantly dabbed the corners of her eyes, unable to control her emotions.

Sam approached with his arms outstretched. “I’m so glad you came.” He hugged both of them and said to Jane, “I owe you so much.”

“Not us,” she corrected. “Biz. She’s the one who got you out of this.”

He looked around. “Where is she?”

“She had to get back to Phoenix. She said to tell you good luck with the rest of your life.”

Tears filled his eyes and he couldn’t reply. She imagined he was thinking of the life he
wouldn’t
have—the one with Nina and his child. His expression fortified Ari’s resolve to do what needed to be done.

“Come say hello to my parents,” he said, guiding them toward the French doors. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy.”

Georgie flew into Jane’s arms while Steve pumped her hand vigorously. “You two are the best friends Sam could ever have!” she exclaimed. “I had my doubts…”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Jane asked, still caught in Georgie’s strong embrace.

“Well, you always are welcome to visit Laguna,” Steve said. “I’m sorry Evan isn’t here,” he added.

“Dad, don’t start,” Sam warned. “It’s going to be a long time before he’s forgiven. If he’d told me about the baby, none of this would’ve happened. Nina never would’ve been out jogging alone—”